The Greatest of These
by coonskin
Summary: A promise, a vigil, a homecoming, and a mystery. This was a birthday Becky Boone would never forget.


Becky paced in the cabin, watching the angle of the sun change through the window as the light slid progressively further below the hills to the west.

He wasn't back yet.

She went out onto the porch, scanning the horizon, then with a sigh returned to the cabin where supper was being prepared. Daniel had a big appetite, his large frame requiring a lot of fuel, but she was cooking even more than needed just to keep her hands occupied. She only hoped that she wouldn't be eating alone tonight. She didn't think she would be able to eat alone tonight; the worry would knot her stomach too tightly.

He wasn't back yet, and he would be pushing it at full speed by this late in the day, trying desperately to keep a promise she hadn't ever asked for. A promise that, once given, she had laughed at, not with good-natured humor but with scornful doubt, making it impossible for him to accept failing on it. If anything happened to him, it would be her fault.

Her hands were busy, but her mind kept replaying that farewell weeks ago, refusing to be distracted. She didn't know what had gotten into her that morning. Of course, she didn't want him to go, she never did, but this trip did seem especially unnecessary. He had just come back the week before from trapping and had said how good a haul he had had and that they should be set for a while for necessities, meat salted down, furs as good as money down at Cincinnatus' store. She had relished the idea of having him home for an extended stay this time.

Then had come the unexpected offer of a guiding job. Some people who had gotten lost several times already and tripped over Boonesborough by accident had been complaining in the tavern one night of the bewildering country and wondering how many more times they would wind up getting sidetracked on their journey east. Cincinnatus, of course, had chimed right in with the statement that old Dan'l could lead them straight as an arrow to their destination, and Dan, who had just moments before been talking with her about the joys of home, perked up like he had heard a bugle and almost jumped at the chance. The deal was struck within two minutes, and he had returned to the table where Becky sat with such a jaunty, self-satisfied air that her annoyance had flared up.

"You said you shouldn't need any more trips for a little while," she had protested on the walk home.

"Becky," he said, "it's just an easy guiding job. East and back, couple of weeks. That's it. It's money handed to us."

"But we have enough for necessities for a while. You said so."

There was an unfamiliar edge in his voice in the dark as they strode along, side by side and close together in spite of the argument. "We do, but sometimes, having something besides necessities might be nice."

"What I want to have is _you_ at home for a good spell this time. I was looking forward to it, Dan. Someone else could take them."

"I'm going, and that's it."

He had taken Sweet Talker out that night, trying to appease her, and the music captivated her as it always did, but the buried core of resentment remained. He was in such a hurry to get away, even pushing the family he was guiding, who willingly would have rested a few more days in the fort rather than out on the trail.

It all came to a boil the morning he was leaving. He had already said goodbye to Israel and given him a hug, and she followed him out into the front yard, wanting a second kiss herself but also out of sorts. It was her time of the month, and she still thought this trip was unnecessary, and part of her deep down was hurt at how eager he seemed for this one. Did he want to leave his family?

He gave her that second goodbye kiss, prolonging it more than he would have in front of their son. "Becky," he said as he released her, "I'll be back by your birthday. I promise."

She'd barely thought of her approaching birthday. They didn't make a big deal out of them with each other beyond maybe a special meal; the real celebrations were something for children. But at that moment, surprised by the statement and still annoyed at his leaving, she had made her big mistake.

She had laughed at him. Not _with_ him, which he could have played along with, but _at_ him, which no man ever took well. Then she had looked up to meet his eyes and said with pure disbelief and even scorn, "I know better than to believe you, Daniel Boone. Your word on this doesn't count for much. You've made promises about when you'll be back before, and you've not always kept them. I'll just expect you when I see you coming, as always."

She had been surprised both at the sharp edge in her tone, far more than she had really intended, and at the hurt as if at a physical blow that appeared in his green eyes. Those words had hit him hard, unexpectedly hard. He backed away half a step. "I _will_ , Becky. I'll be back by your birthday. Whatever it takes. I give you my word, and I'll have a special present for you."

Realizing her mistake too late, she tried to settle him. "Dan, I didn't mean that. Do be careful. Really, it doesn't mat..."

Israel's call came from inside the cabin. "Ma!" The announcement of some domestic disaster of the sort that her son specialized in. She retreated to the cabin door just to look inside and gauge the urgency of the alarm. He had turned over a big bowl of beans she had set out to shell later, and they were all over the floor with him stepping on them as he tried to chase them. A prime mess but not a crisis. She sighed and turned around again to her husband. "Dan," she started, then stopped.

He was gone. Taking off at full speed on those long legs, he was no longer in the yard. She looked in the direction of the fort and saw him in the distance, making excellent time. "Dan," she called out. He heard her; she saw his body react, but he didn't turn around or slow down. He was on a mission now, determined. Every stride proclaimed it. "Be _careful_ ," she called desperately after him. She stood there, watching him out of sight, then went indoors to deal with the beans.

Now today was her birthday, getting on toward sunset. And he was not back yet.

She almost viciously attacked the dough for biscuits, angry not at him but at herself. How could she have challenged his pride and his word like that? She knew that he never broke a promise that it was in his power to keep. Now she had made this a far larger point with him than it was with her, and he would be breaking himself in half to try to beat his self-imposed deadline. And by this late in the day, it obviously was not going to be easy for him. There had been problems; there had been delays. No simple trip as he had anticipated. He was out there taking extra risks because of her flare of temper.

She sighed as she put the biscuits on to bake. "Dan, please be careful," she begged the empty walls. Israel was spending the night tonight over at the Burns family's cabin with some of his friends. He'd been delighted at the permission. She loved her son, but for tonight, she wanted him out of the way. If Dan made it back, she wanted a private chance at reunion and reconciliation, repairing the damage she'd done, and if he didn't, she would never have been able to conceal her worry from Israel as the evening wore on. No, tonight's anxious vigil belonged to her, lock, stock, and barrel. She had set it into motion, and she deserved the loneliness of it.

If only she knew he was all right. It truly didn't matter, today or tomorrow or next week. Just as long as he was safe. She'd rather have him delay than be rash in making speed back. And how could she have let him leave on those words? Words that, if . . . if the worst happened, would be among the last he ever heard from her.

She sighed again. She wandered restlessly around the cabin, stopping at Sweet Talker, wanting nothing more than to hear his beautiful, rich voice.

The biscuits were done. She took them out to cool, remembering how he always tried to snatch one fresh and burned his fingers. She wished he were here right now for her to slap his hand away.

She sat down, then stood within just a few seconds. Sitting was impossible. She went out on the porch again. It was dusk now, shadows falling rapidly.

One shadow was longer than the others and moving. She saw him covering ground at a run, heading straight for her, and she ran off the porch to meet him and be caught up in those long arms. "Dan!" She had intended to apologize right away but found herself kissing him first.

He was home. He was home! She felt like she never wanted to let go, but finally, she broke away enough to speak. "I'm sorry, Dan. I really didn't mean what I said."

"I did mean what I said. And I'm back now. Happy birthday, Becky." He kissed her again.

She took his hand, urging him toward the cabin. "I've got supper all ready. Lots of biscuits and venison steak and an apple pie for dessert."

"I know what I want for dessert." He gave her a friendly pinch on her backside.

"Dan!"

They reached the cabin door. "Where's Israel?" he asked.

"Spending the night at the Burns'."

"Nice." He drew the word out in his drawl as he propped his gun against the wall inside. "Gets him out of our way for the evening."

"That was the plan. But first, you must be starving." She turned to face him in the lamplight now that she could see him clearly, and she gave a gasp.

He looked exhausted, and he was sweating. She wondered how many miles he had kept up that run, obviously more than just the last few feet home to her. He also had something wrong with his left arm, carrying it a bit carefully, and she caught hold of it immediately, searching. He had clearly tried to conceal the bandage on his forearm, rolling his shirt sleeve down well over it, but the bulge stood out at once to her quick scan. She pushed his sleeve up anxiously. He was already minimizing.

"Now, Becky, it's nothing. Just a scratch."

"Nothing!" The bandage was clumsy, quickly applied and not redone for at least a day or two. She pulled it away and studied his arm. Definitely not nothing, though thankfully not outright infected. It was a fairly bad cut, and the source worried her more: A knife wound. "Dan, what _happened_?"

"Just a minor scuffle. Nothing to worry about."

She pushed him firmly down into a chair and headed for the medical supplies which she always kept around. The cut was trying to start to heal but still looked annoyed and needed some help. He hadn't given it much care on the trail. He started to get back up, and she pinned him to the chair with her words. "You _stay_ there, Daniel Boone."

"Can I have a biscuit while you're fussing?" he asked, sniffing appreciatively. "I've dreamed about your biscuits on the trail, Becky."

"Too bad you didn't dream about a better bandage. Even you could have done a more thorough job than that one." She picked up a biscuit on her return trip and handed it to him as she set the bowl down. Water was heated and ready for tea; that would work for warming up the water in the bowl. She put the kettle back after pouring and noticed as she turned around that the biscuit had already disappeared without a trace. She could tell that he was a little thinner, more tightly drawn than usual. She collected two more biscuits and a few clean cloths and returned to the table.

He wolfed down the second biscuit while she was soaking the cloth and quickly started on the third. "Have you had anything at all to eat today?" she asked, carefully pressing the cloth against the knife wound.

"Yes," he said. No further details. She shook her head in exasperation. He would go to great lengths to avoid lying, but he specialized at concealing information when he wanted.

"In the last twelve hours? Did you stop for lunch or just hurry on?"

"I'm fine, Becky," he dodged. "Trail food is so much less satisfying than your good home cooking, anyway."

She was carefully cleaning the gash. "Who attacked you?" she demanded, her tone making it clear that she wasn't going to accept a non answer. "I'm waiting, Daniel Boone, and we _are_ going to get the real story on this tonight, no matter what."

"A thief," he said finally. "Tackled me on the trail coming back when I had stopped to camp one night. Came up from behind me. He wanted the money they paid me and anything else valuable I had; he had grabbed the pack by the time I got back up and was trying to take it away. He had a long knife."

She shuddered, picturing the fierce struggle by firelight. "You subdued him?"

"Well. . ." She caught the hesitation and glared at him. "I _was_ winning by that point, even though he got in a few good licks. We were kind of tangled up together, me trying to keep the knife held away and him trying to use it and demanding the money, and we rolled to the edge of a bluff. I'd set up camp near the edge, one less possible direction for trouble. He went over in the dark; I let go in time." He saw her expression and reached up to touch her face tenderly. "It's all right, Becky. I wasn't really hurt, just nicked up a little."

She finished washing his wound with the warm medicated water and switched to making a neat bandage, far better than the first one. "How did he know you had money? Had he been following you?"

"He'd seen me in Salem the morning of the day before; I bought something there. Don't think he'd been following me. I think he just stumbled across my camp and acted on impulse when he recognized me. Speaking of Salem, Becky, if you'd let me go get that pack, you can have your birthday present."

"I already have." She kissed him, holding him in the chair. "You're the best present ever, Dan. Now stay there, and we'll eat. Then you can give me your surprise, but I know three biscuits barely took the edge off. You need a good meal. You look thinner."

She took the medical supplies away and then dished up, filling his plate to heaping. He sat there obediently, watching her with a smile on his face. "What?" she asked.

"You. Just you. How did I get so lucky?"

"I've wondered that myself at times." She gave him another quick kiss as she delivered his plate. "Now eat, and there's more where that came from."

"Yes, ma'am." He tackled the plate, and she sat across the table where she could watch him as she ate herself. He was very hungry.

"Dan, when did you eat last?"

"About ten seconds ago." He shoveled in another bite. "Make that three."

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it."

"I ate along the trail, Becky, but it wasn't nearly as good as this."

"You're evading the question." She looked down at her hands. "You've been pushing it hard to get back, haven't you? Just because of what I said. Dan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it; don't know what got into me. But I'd far rather have you late than rushing. The country is too dangerous out there to get in a hurry."

He finished the plate with a satisfied sigh, and she stood and got him seconds. "I have been pushing it a little coming back," he admitted, and she promptly mentally multiplied that small concession by a factor of ten. "But you've got one thing wrong. It wasn't just because of what you said. I did mean to get back by your birthday if at all possible, and that was before you ever said a word that day I left."

"But I shouldn't have laughed at you." She saw the quick ember of remembered pain in his eyes. "I know you always keep your promises if you can, Dan. I was just feeling out of sorts that morning, and I took it out on you."

"You're entitled to feel out of sorts sometimes, just like everybody else. You've probably got more reason for it than most other folks, putting up with me."

She shook her head. "Daniel Boone, you've got it backwards. You're the one putting up with me lots of times." He finished his second plateful, and she relented, giving him whatever moment it was that he wanted to set up. "Okay, now, where's this surprise you mentioned?"

"In my pack." He stood and retrieved it, then sat back down at the table. He pulled out a carefully wrapped package and handed it over to her. "Happy birthday, Becky."

She untied the string and carefully unwrapped the several layers of cloth. Whatever it was had been exceptionally well padded, even overdone. Finally, she arrived at the prize in the center, and she sat back with a gasp as she realized what it was.

The oval decorative platter had a beautiful design of flowers and an entwining vine all around the edges, and the center text read, "The greatest of these is love."

She had seen this before, had admired it, thinking how _perfect_ it would be on their mantlepiece along with the other platters. On her last visit to Salem some months before, she had found this and its twin in a store and had stood there looking for a long moment before checking the price. Even just for one and not for both, it wasn't cheap. This was first-rate imported china. It was out of their budget, and she had turned away regretfully. She hadn't thought of this in months, had put it out of her mind.

Obviously, he hadn't. She looked up at him. "You saw me admiring it in the store?" She had thought he was totally absorbed in merchandise clear across the big room.

He nodded. "I saw you admiring it. Then I saw you check the price, and I saw the realization hit that you couldn't have something that high. Then I saw you put it down and walk away." His voice held far more regrets than her mind back in the store in Salem ever had. "I'm sorry, Becky. You deserve nice things like that if you want them."

"Dan, I..." The realization hit like a load of firewood landing on her. "This is the whole reason you took that guiding job."

He nodded. "It was a chance. Extra money that would make it possible and coming back through Salem, even."

"So _that's_ why you were in such a hurry to get away, and why you promised to make it back by my birthday, and..." Her throat tightened up. "Oh, Dan."

He came around to her side of the table, sliding in next to her, and she leaned into him. "And I was mad at you for that trip. I'm sorry."

"I told you, I'm the one who's sorry. Watching your face in that store when you put it down, Becky. That was like somebody hit me with an axe. I know life is hard for us out here, but you deserve to treat yourself to something now and then, and so often, you can't afford it. We're just dealing with necessities, day to day. Not much of a life for you at times."

She pulled him close, leaning her head against his strong chest. The gesture from him was unaccustomed; he usually _didn't_ notice finer details on things like that. He no doubt could have recited specifics on every rifle or knife in the store, but it had never occurred to her that he might be watching her look at dishes. But once he had noticed, in typical Daniel Boone style, he had seized that moment with far more vigor than it had carried originally on its own. This man did nothing by halves, nothing at all.

"Dan. Listen to me, and listen good. I haven't got any regrets about you, or us, or this life out here. _None_. Yes, I wanted this, and I'll treasure it. It's beautiful. But what you saw was only a moment's wish, and I haven't been pining over it ever since. I have never, _never_ wanted this or anything else in a store more than I want what we have together. Not for one second. You are the best present I ever had. I love you so much more than anything this life has cost me, and I wouldn't trade you if I could. But it does mean a lot that you saw me and cared for what I might be feeling. That means more than the plate itself. Thank you."

They kissed deeply. "About that dessert," he suggested with a gleam in his eye.

"I'll dish up the apple pie now, but _then,_ my dear, before we go to bed, you need a bath."

He looked down at himself. "Well, I guess I am a mite dusty and sweaty."

"Yes, you are. And while I still love you that way, our bed doesn't." She kissed him again, then stood to retrieve the pie. "And I will hold inspection tonight and find out anyway, so tell me honestly, are you hurt anywhere else besides that knife cut?"

"Couple of bruises from the struggle. Really, Becky, it's nothing."

She reserved the right to make up her own mind about that, but for now, she was reassured. She started dishing up apple pie, giving him a triple piece, and as he launched into it appreciatively, she took the platter to the mantle and moved the others over, making room. There, right in the middle of them. It was perfect. "Thank you, Daniel Boone," she said.

He grinned at her and answered through a mouthful of pie. "You're more than welcome."

...

Becky rolled over and blinked. Hazy dawn filled the bedroom. Dan, to her surprise, was still sound asleep, didn't look like he'd even moved since the last time she'd woken up in the night just to bask in his presence. She studied him in the early light of day. This man. All the ornate platters in China itself didn't even come close.

It was odd for him not to be first awake. Seized with a sudden worry, she picked up his left wrist, feeling the bandage. It wasn't hot, nor was his forehead. The bruises he had on his body were indeed minor, were already fading, in fact.

He must just be tired. He'd want a big breakfast when he woke up; it would take him a few days to recover from the rigors of that dash back. She carefully crept out of bed, but he never even twitched. Poor Dan. He really was worn out.

She did the morning chores, then started cooking. Breakfast was done, the smells filling the cabin, and he still hadn't appeared, so she stuck her head back through the curtain for another check. He was totally out. She stood there watching his chest rise and fall evenly for a while, but she didn't have the heart to wake him.

Well, the food might not taste as good in an hour or two as now, but she could more or less keep it hot. She did a few quiet tasks around the cabin, stopping once or twice to admire the platter. Eventually, she went ahead and ate herself. Then, seeing his pack, she started to clean it out from the trip.

In the very bottom of it, her reaching fingers found a hard, sharp edge, and she pulled it out, curious. A broken fragment of familiar china, the word Love still visible in it, barely missed by a crack. The whole thing wasn't more than a few inches. She looked up at the piece on the mantle in surprise, fearing at first illogically that it had been broken even though she had been admiring it just a few minutes before. No, it was intact. Curious, she carried the ragged-edged fragment over and compared.

The match was perfect. If she weren't looking at the dish whole, she would have been willing to swear this fragment had come from it.

The truth hit her like a blow, and she sank down onto the bench, staring at the broken piece. Then she retrieved his pack and explored further. Two other smaller china slivers were in the bottom. That was all; most of it apparently had been cleaned out along the trail. Dan had missed these final small pieces in his hurry.

The one on the mantle must be the _second_ platter, not the first. There had been two in the store. He had bought the first in Salem, and when he had been tackled on the trail later, the present had been shattered in the scuffle over the pack. When he discovered it, he must have turned back. He had _returned_ to Salem, bought the second one, and then, seriously behind schedule at that point by back-tracking, bolted all the way from there to home. He had said he'd eaten along the way, but that probably had consisted of a few bites of jerky on the move. He most likely hadn't really slept, not a full night's worth, nothing more than the shortest possible naps when he couldn't go on. Everything had been consumed in the effort to get home in time, made so much harder by doubling back to Salem. That explained perfectly the condition he'd arrived home in, as well as the puzzling fact that those bruises looked a little older than they should have based on where he'd said they'd happened. Becky unfortunately had had lots of experiencing in watching the stages of bruises on his body.

Last night's anger had been at herself. This morning's was at him. She shook her head, and her fists clenched on the broken fragment of china. "Daniel Boone!" she said sharply, though still softly.

It was late morning when he finally appeared through the curtains from the bedroom. She was sitting in her chair sewing. "Morning," he said sheepishly. "I must be getting plumb lazy."

"Good morning," she answered. "And you weren't lazy; you were exhausted. I'm sure you still haven't had enough rest, but your stomach finally woke you up. I'll get your breakfast." She set aside her sewing and stood, moving to fix his plate.

He was watching her, puzzled. "Something bothering you, Becky?"

"What on earth would be bothering me?" Two could play at that avoidance game, one of his favorites. "My husband is home, and I have a beautiful birthday present." She put his plate on the table and nodded at the chair, and he sat down and started eating silently, still focused intently on her. "I even have more than one beautiful birthday present. I seem to have about one and a twentieth." She placed the love fragment on the middle of the table, close to his coffee.

His eyes widened, then shielded. "Oh, don't even bother, Dan. I've worked it out now. That fragment in the bottom of your pack came from the _first_ platter, didn't it? The one that was broken when you got attacked? And then you _turned around_ and went back to Salem, bought the _second_ one, and made it a flat-out race all the way from there to home. Did you stop at all for a full night to rest between there and here?"

He picked up the fragment in his big hands, inspecting it. "I didn't mean for you to know about the first one."

"Why not? Do you think for one second that running a risk for yourself like that would be less upsetting to me than having a very thoughtful gift broken by an accident that _was not your fault_? What did you think would happen if you showed up with just pieces of it? You can't help it that some thief went after you and the pack on the trail, Dan, but you _can_ try to avoid just asking for a repeat by pushing yourself too hard after that." She sat down to face him directly across the table. "How could you possibly take a chance like that? To save a life or something I'd understand, but to replace a china platter accidentally broken? You could have tried to use some paste or something to try to fix it. You could have told me about it and promised me the replacement one next easy, routine trip through Salem."

"Some of the pieces were a lot smaller than this, would have been hard to fix. Besides, if I'd tried to fix it, it would have been all full of cracks," he protested. "See, there's a crack just in this piece."

"What about simply telling me what happened? Coming on home without running yourself into the ground and telling me. I would have understood, Dan. We could have replaced it later."

"But you deserved it done right."

She shook her head. "Daniel Boone, get it through your thick skull. _You_ are worth much more than some present. To take that big a toll on yourself for this wasn't worth the price. What if you'd run into Shawnee on the way back? What if you'd run into Shawnee last night when your feet would hardly keep going? Or some other crisis, and you know as well as I do what can happen out there. This wasn't worth risking yourself over. Simply pushing it home like I thought last night was bad enough, but turning clear around to Salem and then running back over a broken piece of china? That's insane."

He looked at the whole platter on the mantle. "Don't you like it?"

"Yes, I like it. I love it. But did you even take time to read it, Dan? The greatest of these is love. That's the greatest present, too. And I already have that, and I know it. I would have known it even if you came home with a broken gift. The best present is what we have here." She moved to sit down next to him. "You could have been killed. You could have developed a bad infection in that wrist; I'm sure that's why you didn't take the time to really treat it and bandage it well. You were too much in a hurry to replace the platter." She felt tears rising and pushed them back with determination. "I truly would have loved this gift still if it was broken, Dan. Because you noticed that I wanted it and thought to give it to me. _That's_ the sweetest part of it. But to risk yourself like that just to replace it..." She buried her head against his shoulder.

His arm came out after a few seconds to encircle her firmly. "It's all right, Becky. I'm here, and I'm fine."

She let out a shuddering sigh. "Please, Dan, make me a promise. I can understand Indian wars, life and death situations, things like that. But don't ever risk yourself so much just to replace a present again. No present is worth as much as you are."

"I'll promise, since it means that much to you," he said softly. "I just wanted you to have what you deserved."

"I already do. The greatest of these is love, remember?" She leaned back against his strong arm, enjoying the feel of him close again. "I love my birthday present, but don't ever do anything like that again. I love you a whole lot more than it."

She felt his deep chuckle and looked at him curiously. He picked up the fragment and traced the word with his finger. "Thought I emptied out all of these on the trail. In fact, I threw them over the bluff that night once I checked the pack and realized it was smashed. Lost my temper good over that, and he wasn't even still alive to hit on some more. But it's funny that this is the part that snuck along home with me. Love."

She smiled with him. "That is appropriate. I think I'll keep it. Really. I like it. And you know what, Dan? Even on that one, the love isn't broken."

He traced the crack. "Came close."

"But missed it." She snuggled up to him. "I would have understood, Dan. I would. You are not responsible for everything that happens in the world. Your original plan was so thoughtful, and I do appreciate that, but it wasn't your fault it got broken. You should have just told me and replaced it next trip if you insisted." She kissed him. "One more promise."

"You sure do want them this morning. What's this one?" She could hear his tone relaxing now in spite of the question. Her message, she thought, was sinking in at least a little ways.

"Please, let's agree never to part on hard words again. If those had been our last, I never would have forgiven myself."

"That I can promise you," he agreed gladly. "I'd much prefer the other kind of goodbye myself. Works just as well for hello, too." He stood up, pulling her up to join him and then wrapping her up in his arms. "Becky Boone, I kind of like you."

She melted against him. "I kind of like you, too."

It was a few minutes or an hour later, neither was sure, when their son entered the cabin, and his exasperated voice cut through the scene. "Pa! Ma! Are you guys ever going to get tired of kissing?"

"No," they answered in perfect unison, and then Dan opened one arm to let Israel into the hug, and the family was once again together.


End file.
